


In Check

by withhishands



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 3x06 rework, M/M, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:26:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withhishands/pseuds/withhishands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Essentially, me attempting to pretend Terry never came home and this is how their sleepover went.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Check

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not coping well with their storyline right now, so I wrote this frantically on my phone at work. 
> 
> This is 100% dedicated to my tumblr BFF.

They sit next to each other for two movies without overtly touching each other. Their hands brush as they pass cigarettes back and forth. Ian's legs knocks into Mickey's when he drops them to lean forward to grab food. They honestly might as well be just friends. 

But, Mickey didn't invite Ian over to just watch movies next to him. 

Before the second movie ends, Mickey stands up, hikes his pants up, and quickly straddles Ian's thighs. Ian's hands seem to instinctively latch on to Mickey's waist as he sits. He stares, blinking, at Mickey with his eyebrows quirked down and a faint smirk on his lips. Mickey twists a hand into Ian's short hair and yanks his head backwards. 

"I wanted to finish the movie," Ian says with a grin. 

"Like hell you wanted to finish the movie," Mickey mumbles before pressing their lips together. 

It's the second time Mickey has kissed Ian. He couldn't work up the nerve to do it after he got shot. Or maybe the beer in his stomach is helping him along and it has nothing to do with nerve. Either way, Mickey is kissing Ian. 

Ian's hands tighten on Mickey's waist briefly before sliding under Mickey's tank, pushing it up under his armpits. Mickey takes the hint and pulls off his shirt, nodding at Ian to do the same. If they're doing this, the whole making out during a movie thing, Mickey wants to feel the hard planes of Ian's chest under his fingertips. 

Their mouths join again, sloppily, while their hands run across the newly uncovered flesh. Mickey takes the time to appreciate just how good it feels to not, for once in his fucking life, feel like he's going to get smacked for being who he is. 

Ian's hands move down to Mickey's ass, grabbing and pulling Mickey's groin closer to his own. Any other day, Mickey would have loved the feeling of Ian's strong arms pulling him closer, grabbing his ass, but not today. 

"Ow!" Mickey yelps. "Fuck, watch the injury."

Ian presses his forehead to Mickey's and laughs lightly. Mickey rolls his eyes. 

"Looks like we're switching for tonight," Ian says. He shakes his legs under Mickey, urging Mickey to stand up. 

Mickey groans and stands up. He hates switching, but Ian's right. He's not going to get what he wants from sex with an injured ass. Ian has this way of fucking that's hard and deep and agonizingly slow, but Mickey wouldn't trade it for anything. He snaps his hips forward so forcefully, it sends Mickey reeling, and then pulls out only to thrust again just as hard. That kind of fucking is something Mickey's ass can't take tonight. 

He watches Ian undo his pants and start a slow walk toward Mickey's bedroom, looking over his shoulder once and grinning. Mickey follows. Like he had another choice. 

Ian assumes Mickey's usual position, on his knees and elbows, staring down at Mickey's less-than-clean sheets. Mickey thinks about how clean Ian always is and how he never seems to mind that Mickey isn't.

Mickey drops his pants and boxers before grabbing lube and kneeling behind Ian on his bed. More times than not, Ian fucks him with just spit. They can't seem to bring themselves to carry lube around. But, Mickey feels less comfortable fucking Ian without lube because he rarely fucks Ian. Ian is definitely not a bottom, and Mickey can't force him into liking the dry burn of a cock pushing in without lube.

Mickey covers two of his fingers with lube and works them into Ian. 

Ian doesn't say a word, just lowers his head. Mickey shouldn't really expect him to say anything. He usually doesn't. Ian's quiet in a way that makes Mickey seem talkative, which he is not. Sometimes Ian rambles, but it's rare. He's quiet during sex. Or relatively quiet. He doesn't talk, just grunts and lets escape the occasional moan or curse. If Mickey starts talking during sex, Ian snaps at him to shut up. 

Mickey doesn't wait for confirmation that he's stretched Ian enough. He can feel how loose his asshole is; Mickey is nothing if not experienced in shoving stuff up asses. He positions himself and pushes in. He relishes in the soft moan that Ian lets out unintentionally. 

Mickey always makes a vow to fuck Ian more whenever he's balls deep in Ian. He loses sight of that vow the next time Ian has Mickey's legs on his shoulder and his dick pressing bluntly into his ass. It's hard to give up being a bottom when he loves it so much. But, seriously, they need to switch more. 

Mickey moves in and out faster than Ian does. He doesn't have the patience to give Ian a slow fuck, not when they've been essentially celibate since Mickey was shot. There was one mutual hand-job session in the coolers two days ago and Ian blew him earlier against the produce. But there's been no fucking and that's what Mickey craves. 

"C'mon," Mickey groans. "Am I close?"

Mickey isn't shy of giving Ian words of encouragement until he hits Mickey's prostate. Ian is a little less forthcoming.

Mickey watches Ian's back flex and his hips rotate. He takes a moment to appreciate the movement of the muscles covering Ian's back and runs a hand down before letting it rest on Ian's hip. He pulls Ian's hip backwards and towards him, thrusting his hips faster. 

"Just," Ian whispers. "Lower."

"Me or my dick," Mickey asks, rolling his eyes. 'Lower' is not helpful. 

"Goddammit," Ian says louder. "You."

Mickey shifts his legs wider on the mattress, lowering his body slightly. He's rewarded with a high-pitched moan from Ian. Mickey swells with pride at making the usually silent Ian noisier. 

Mickey can't keep it going as long as Ian can. Mickey just doesn't have the same stamina. He can't take the time to feel bad about it though, not when Ian's ass is this tight and clenching around him. 

Mickey curses as he comes, slowing his hips steadily. He pulls out and watches Ian's asshole close and open, his come squeezing out. Groaning, Mickey shoves his dick back in until he's too soft and sensitive to continue. 

"Flip," Mickey says. 

Ian obliges, throwing his body down and turning onto his back. Mickey shifts himself down on his mattress, hooking an arm around one of Ian's legs, and sucking Ian's dick down. He kneads the back of Ian's thigh and lets his other hand wander to Ian's used asshole. He presses two fingers back inside and easily finds Ian's prostate. 

Mickey's never done this to Ian, blown him and massaged his prostate. Ian does it to him all the time, though. It's the right thing to do, if Ian's hand knotted in his hair is anything to go by. 

"Fuck," Ian curses. "Shit, hey."

Mickey knows that Ian's about to come. He bobs a few more times before pulling his mouth off and jerking Ian until he comes over Mickey's hand. 

"Jesus," Ian says, breathing heavily. Mickey crawls up the bed and lies down next to Ian. He pulls a shirt from the ground, wiping off Ian's jizz, and laughs. "You're good at that."

"Yeah," Mickey says, laughing. 

Mickey rolls off of the bed and pads to the bathroom. When he looks at himself in the mirror, he's smiling. He feels ridiculous for being so happy, but he can't help it. 

Ian pops up behind him and drops a kiss on Mickey's shoulder. 

"Shower?" Ian asks. 

Mickey mumbles a response and nods. He frowns; he can feel it. Compared to the smile previously on his face, the frown feels heavy and unwelcome. 

"Jesus, we don't have to," Ian says, eying the look on Mickey's face. He pulls the shower curtain open and twists the nob. The shower screeches on. Ian keeps a hand under the spray and waits until the water gets warmer before stepping in. 

Mickey watches the water slide down Ian's chest before Ian closes the curtain. Mickey steels himself, gripping the sink for a minute. 

He pulls open the shower curtain, at the opposite side from where Ian stepped in. Ian turns under the spray and grins. He redirects a stream of water to splash Mickey, laughing. 

Mickey spins Ian away from the stream of water and douses his hair. He doesn't even see Ian's hands reach up until they're in his hair. 

"You always wear so much gel," Ian comments. His hands and the water work out the hardened gel. Ian squeezes shampoo into Mickey's hair and starts to rub it in. 

"I can wash my own hair," Mickey grumbles. He takes over for Ian's hands, but cracks a smile as Ian's deep laugh echoes in the stall. 

Mickey finds out quickly that showering with another person is cumbersome. He's sure that they didn't save any water, so fuck that theory. But, he's surprisingly not opposed to repeating the experience in the future. 

Ian gets out first and is ready in wait to snap a towel at Mickey when he steps out. 

"Fuck," Mickey yelps. "You're a dead man, Gallagher."

Ian darts out of the bathroom with his towel. Mickey runs after him and chases him around the kitchen for a few minutes. When Mickey finally gets his hands on Ian, his threat dies instantly. He finds himself, instead, digging his fingers into Ian's hips and dragging him into a kiss. 

Ian shoves him back, smiling, and looks for more food. Mickey is grateful that Ian's keeping him in check. Mickey doesn't know what to do, how to act, in situations like these. Without verbalizing it, Ian is making sure Mickey doesn't venture too far out of his comfort zone. 

"Any chips?" Ian asks. 

Mickey opens up a cabinet and passes Ian a bag of pretzels. Ian head back toward Mickey's bedroom with the bag in his hands and the towel slung over his shoulder. Mickey watches his ass until he walks out of view. 

Mickey rubs a hand over his face. How does he deserve this? He lets out a shaky breath and follows. 

They smoke through two joints and a handful of cigarettes, spread across Mickey's bed, eating pretzels. Ian's eyes start drooping and Mickey can see him struggle to stay awake. Mickey knows that he invited Ian over to crash, but he wasn't thinking of the actual crashing at the time. He's never literally slept with Ian.

"I'm tired, man," Ian says. He lets out a puff of smoke before stubbing out his cigarette. "Shove over."

Mickey moves to the head of the bed, pressing his back to the headboard. Ian moves in next to him, between the wall and Mickey's body. He kicks at Mickey's sheets and blanket until he's well covered in bedding. He spins onto his side and toward Mickey. Lightly, he noses Mickey's bare thigh. 

"C'mon," Ian says. He moves his head away from Mickey's thigh and closes his eyes. 

Mickey gets out of bed and turns off the lights in the living room and kitchen. He flicks off the bedroom light, leaving him relatively blind in the room until his eyes adjust. He shuffles his way to the bed and lies down stiffly next to Ian. Ian pulls the sheet and blanket up to cover Mickey. 

Mickey fears for a second that Ian's going to do something like tell him to sleep well or to sleep tight and to not let the bed bugs bite. Instead, Ian just goes to sleep. Mickey listens to Ian's soft breathing until he falls asleep, too.

Mickey wakes up briefly in the middle of the night when Ian crawls over him to use the bathroom. When Ian settles back down in bed, he wraps an arm around Mickey's waist and presses his nose to the nape of Mickey's neck. Ian exhales, sending a warm breath across his neck. 

"Stop breathin' on me," Mickey mumbles. He covers Ian's hand with his own and keeps it in place around his waist. Ian snorts quietly. 

Mickey falls asleep again quickly with Ian's breath on his neck and warm chest on his back. 

He doesn't wake up in the same position, but he's far from complaining. He's lying on his back with Ian's face pressed into his bicep. Ian's arm is still wrapped around Mickey's abdomen, heavy and grounding. 

Mickey easily lifts Ian's arm and slides out of bed. He brushes his teeth quietly, trying to not turn the faucet on too much because then the water rushes out in a noisy stream. Mickey rubs gel through his hair to keep it held back. 

Walking back into the room, Mickey takes a second to stare at Ian. He's curled more with his face pressed into the pillow. The sheet is high on his chest and Mickey immediately wants to tug it down and stare at Ian's soft skin covering hard muscles. He doesn't. He grabs a pair of boxers and goes to the kitchen. 

Ian better not be expecting anything special for breakfast because Mickey can't cook. Mickey quickly pushes that from his mind. Ian's not that kind of guy. He's not looking for someone to make him food. Despite the room service jab, Mickey is pretty sure Ian doesn't care one way or the other. 

When Ian comes out of the bedroom, he's got boxers on and a tired expression. He grins lopsidedly at Mickey and asks if there's any cereal. 

Mickey handles watching Ian eat cereal for all of five minutes before he's pulling him up from the table and bending him over the kitchen counter. It's rougher than the night before, but Ian doesn't protest. Mickey tries to use as much spit as he can, but he needs to be inside of Ian as soon as possible. 

Ian surprisingly comes first. He drags Mickey to the couch, pushes him down, and kneels on the floor between Mickey's legs. Ian grabs his thighs and pulls him to the edge of the cushion before he sucks Mickey down. Ian prods at Mickey's asshole, teasingly, before shoving two fingers in. It makes Mickey miss having Ian's cock in his ass. 

Ian's not due at work for a few hours still. They watch TV and smoke and maybe make out a little until the time gets closer to when Ian has to leave. Mickey doesn't manage to convince Ian into shoving the Ben Wa beads up his ass, but Ian's cock is the next best thing. 

He nearly breathes out a sigh of relief at the feeling. He knows that four days is not that long. He's gone longer without getting fucked. But, it's relieving nonetheless. 

Ian doesn't go easy on him, but Mickey can't bring himself to care. He grips the couch and grunts at every thrust. Ian has the timing down. It took a while to get a rhythm going. Either Mickey would come too soon or Ian would and it ended in frantic scrambling to get the other one off. Now, though, Ian keeps himself on edge, ready to come when Mickey does. It's more efficient and Mickey likes the history it represents. 

Ian puts on the some clothes he had shoved in a backpack and gets ready to leave. 

"You gotta start wearing a condom," Mickey grumbles. He can feel Ian's come dripping out of him. 

"Complain, complain," Ian taunts. "You complain if I wear one and complain if I don't."

Mickey rolls his eyes even though Ian's right. He just complains a lot. He likes the condom because he doesn't have to clean much after, and he hates the condom because he likes the feeling of Ian's bare cock so much. 

"Shut up," Mickey says. 

Ian laughs and finishes gathering his stuff. 

"Okay, I'm goin'," Ian says. "You coming by later?"

Mickey doesn't work today. Linda hardly complains when Mickey shows up, though. But, he's got a lot of people to collect from today. 

"Depends," Mickey says.

"Mandy be around tonight?" 

"Dunno," Mickey says. "You sneakin' out again?"

Ian just grins. Mickey lets himself smile back before yelling at Ian to go on and leave. Ian doesn't wipe the smile off of his face.

**Author's Note:**

> I know that most of this didn't happen, but a girl can dream, right?
> 
> Sorry if it sucked?  
> (I'm not that sorry.)
> 
> withhishands.tumblr.com


End file.
